


Alone

by pipisafoat



Series: Jamieverse [1]
Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of one life marks the beginning of the next. (The story that started this entire AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings note: minor character death, not graphic

She doesn't know how it happened. One second, they were walking out of the restaurant, laughing at how much Peter looked like the new face of White House news, and the next, he was on the ground. Her reflexes kicked in before she had time to so much as look at him, and she had her gun in her hand, scanning the street for whoever just shot her sister's fiancé. All she found was a car with no tags speeding away to the south, and she dropped to her knees beside Peter, ignoring his whimper of pain as she pressed her hand hard against the flood of blood.

She doesn't know how it happened. They were on the FBI watch list. They were on the CIA's radar. Even Mossad had an eye on them, and nobody seemed to have noticed that they'd left DC for Albuquerque. Certainly nobody knew why they'd moved operations to the desert, or why they'd come into town that day in a stolen car loaded down with guns. She wishes, not for the first time, that all law enforcement would share information and maybe organize their operations with each other, even if it is too late for Peter. She bows her head as the priest leads them in prayer.

She doesn't know how it happened. They were supposed to meet for dinner, the three of them, but Brandi had gotten held up talking to her professor and told them to go ahead without her. She wanted to just leave and go about their own lives, but Peter talked her into staying to get to know him a little better. He wanted to have a good relationship with his in-laws, if for no reason other than to make sure Brandi always had a good relationship with her family. She laughs silently, without humor. Brandi's moved back in and is so distraught she literally won't let her out of her sight. She crosses herself and reaches for her little sister's hand, squeezes it, and rubs her back gently.

The only thing she knows is why it happened. In a turn of irony that would make the infamous Murphy proud, they spent dinner talking about one of Peter's customers, a politically-minded guy who'd asked if Peter had a second life working in the White House and then ignored the negative answer in favor of detailing everything the government did wrong. She hates that his last words were said before the doors opened, where the shooters couldn't hear him. "I'm a car salesman, not a politician," she whispers to herself, and Brandi shivers next to her. She pulls her sister into a half-hug before helping her stand up to throw the first fistful of dirt into the hole.

She knows why it happened, even if it doesn't make any sense. She knows every word the paramedics said when they pulled her away from his body. Every word the police said to her, every word she said to them. She can close her eyes and see her sister's face when she got to the morgue. At night, when she slides into bed beside Brandi, she feels Marshall's arms as he pulled them both to him, answering her desperate call for help from the hospital. She can even sketch the nondescript car with more skill than she thought she had, but she can't see their faces. She sees them looking at her, she knows they were right in front of her for a split second, but all she sees is Peter's face, contorted in pain, life flooding out of him.

"Can I just have a minute alone with him?" Brandi whispers, and she nods, walks a few yards away to where Marshall is hovering awkwardly. She sits next to him on the faded headstone, leans her head on his shoulder, and watches her sister stroke the fresh stone of the graveyard's newest addition.

"I can't leave her alone," she says quietly, sliding her fingers into his hand. She's already told Stan to put her down for as much vacation as she has.

He nods and squeezes her hand gently. "I'm here when you need me," he answers. "To talk, or just to be. I'm your friend, not your therapist."

Her breath hitches, and she presses closer to him and listens to his heartbeart. Strong. Steady. Reassuring. Alive.

She doesn't know how it happened, and that scares her more than anything. She couldn't react fast enough to save someone who only mattered a little bit to her. She can't risk the same thing happening to anyone who matters. She just hasn't decided if she needs more practice or to give up. If she doesn't have the means to defend anyone, she can't really be blamed if anything happens.

Marshall pulls his hand out of hers and digs something out of his pocket. "Stop thinking," he murmurs, pressing her badge into her hand. "Brandi needs you strong and sure right now. Be that for her, and when she can stand again, I'll teach you how to be that for yourself again." He rises from the headstone, kisses her briefly on the forehead, and walks away, leaving Mary to collect her sister.

She doesn't know how it happened. She doesn't understand why it happened. She isn't sure if she can go back to the way things were, but she knows that Brandi doesn't go to sleep at night until she sees her sister's gun on the bedside table. I don't have to use it, she decides, just keep it there for her.

"Let's go home," she says gently, helping her sister up. "It's too cold out here for the baby."


End file.
